


Old Fractures

by fakebodies



Category: Face/Off (1997)
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Violence, and it gives more insight into the Troy brothers, if you read the script theres a scene where Pollux talks w/ Archer about how 'their' mother died, mentions of vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 11:11:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18964078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakebodies/pseuds/fakebodies
Summary: "No, don't you worry about it. Clearly he's had a traumatic childhood."





	Old Fractures

Castor Troy killed his first person when he was thirteen years old.

Remorse is not an emotion he feels, not since he first felt blood seeping between his fingers as bone and brains squelched under the relentless pounding of the butt of his father’s handgun, little Castor Troy putting as much force as he can behind the blows.

Pollux Troy was born when Castor was six. Caz was ten when their mother died, choking on her own vomit; his brother was four. Pollux didn’t really remember that day, no child could, but Castor reminded him often enough of the promise he'd made that it stuck: as long as Castor was alive, he would make sure nobody laid a finger on his baby brother. He’d gripped Pollux’s frail shoulders and sworn the only oath he’d ever keep with as much integrity as a ten year old could possibly muster up. His brother, with tears streaming down his still-chubby cheeks, had nodded solemnly and used the sleeve of his bright orange shirt to wipe their mother’s puke from Castor’s chin.

Pollux Troy had stopped crying the year before their mother died. The moment Castor had given up on trying to resuscitate her was the first time in a year he’d seen his brother’s tears. It would be the last for another three. He’d only loved two people, and one, the kindhearted buffer between them and the man who’d fathered them, was lying dead on the floor. Castor takes Pollux’s hand and leads him home; the hospital staff can deal with the body of the innocent woman they’d refused to save. Their father ignores them that night, but the blessed peace doesn’t last. Their father had beaten the tears out of three year old Pollux, hard enough to leave a permanent dent beneath his baby brother’s soft curls. Neither of them believed that things would improve.

Castor had gathered enough sharpness around himself to cut anyone who tried to touch him. He was no longer a target for their father’s blows, but Pollux was too-soft, too-smart, too-faggy. Too anything their father could come up with to degrade the boy who took too much after their mother. It makes Castor’s blood boil in his veins, but he knows they’d only be separated if the foster care system took them— he can’t allow that. Already whip-smart, he waits, letting the rage fester every time Pollux crept silently to him in the night to display new cuts and bruises. There are never any tears, not anymore.

The breaking point comes when Castor is thirteen, Pollux barely nine. Their father grabs tiny, bird-like Pollux by the back of his neck and throws him. His brother doesn’t make a sound, even when the sickening crack of bone fills the grimy kitchen. Castor can’t hear anything except the pounding of his heart in his ears. He grabs their father’s handgun from where it’s jammed between the couch cushions, leveling it and pulling the trigger. The bullet rips a hole in their father’s chest, the man falling to the ground with a thud Castor barely hears. He straddles the man’s broad back and grips the barrel of the gun, heaving his arms back and letting the butt slam down again and again, until their father’s head is nothing but jelly. The only thought in his mind is of how Pollux could have died.

Spattered with blood, eyes wide and manic, chest heaving, Castor looks at Pollux and his baby brother looks back, bottom lip trembling. He tosses the gun aside, gathering his brother tight against his chest and rocking him, back and forth, back and forth, until finally, something snaps. Pollux screams, shaking in Castor’s arms as every bottled sob their father had forced him to silence tore free. He screams until he can’t, and then he hiccups and sobs until he runs out of tears completely. When the house is finally silent, Castor Troy will set his first bone, ripping up his freshly bloodied tank top for a sling. Pollux’s cheeks aren’t chubby anymore, but Castor still takes his baby brother’s hand— Caz will lead him out of their father’s house, and they will never look back.

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on 2x4swrites.tumblr.com


End file.
